


Making History

by TonySawicki



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Smut, Voyeurism, kinda fluffy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 10:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonySawicki/pseuds/TonySawicki
Summary: When Slade and Dick end up sharing a safehouse during a case where they've had to team up, neither of them is quite expecting the experience to bring them, well, closer.





	Making History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/gifts).

> Surpriiise, it's not even cadkitten's birthday and here I am with this!  
This was based on a prompt from cadkitten, and was super challenging for me to write (they always push me out of my comfort zones) so I hope I managed to pull off something that is at least somewhat in the realm of what you were after! You're the best and I am always happy to write something for you, even when I don't have the first idea how to write it, haha!  
Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys!

It had not been Dick’s idea to share a safehouse with Slade Wilson, of all people.

No, he’d been hesitant to even agree to work alongside him on this case, and it was definitely never part of the plan for them to end up “lying low” in a safehouse for an indeterminate amount of time while they awaited the all-clear signal.

The particulars of who was at fault for their current predicament were complicated and ultimately unimportant. Dick preferred to work on moving forward, rather than to dwell on whose mistake had brought them to the unfortunate circumstances in which they found themselves now.

But the fact was that he was now holed up in a less-than-appealing little apartment, stocked with barely the necessities, on strict orders to not set foot outside or else risk blowing their entire operation.

“Guess we’ll finally have some time to sit down and get to know one another,” Slade had said with a smirk that was almost enough to make Dick think he’d planned it this way.

Really, he wouldn’t have put it past him. It was part of why Dick was wary working with him in the first place. _Get to know one another?_ They already knew each other a shade too well; that was the whole problem.

The one upside was that the safehouse had two bedrooms, so there was no need for anyone to be relegated to sleeping on the couch. Dick didn’t want to be rude, but he did want to spend as little time in the common areas of the apartment as possible.

And okay, he felt kind of guilty about that. It wasn’t as if Slade had done anything untoward while they’d been working together, and surely, he felt just as frustrated, trapped, and useless as Dick did, stuck waiting for some word that still hadn’t come after a full week.

“This goes on too much longer and we’ll at least have to make a grocery run,” Slade said, shifting nonperishables around in a kitchen cupboard. “I’d say we’re stocked to last through the end of the month, but not past.”

Dick was on the beat-up couch, checking for any missed messages for the four hundredth time, but he glanced over. “If it comes down to it, we can probably order groceries from one of those delivery services.”

Slade grunted. “Take the danger out of pushing a shopping cart around.”

“You got the same intel I did,” Dick said. “It’s not safe for us to go out _at all_.”

“Armed? In disguise?” Slade shrugged one shoulder carelessly. “Not safe for whom? I’m not afraid of a risk here and there.”

Dick had the feeling he was only saying it to try and goad him into something. He knew it wasn’t Slade’s style to be reckless or stupid, and he had a lot riding on the success of their operation. There was more at stake than just them.

If Slade’s intention had been merely to annoy him, it had worked, and Dick got up from the couch to retire to his room, only to be stopped by Slade’s voice.

“Don’t go. I’m—Just antsy.” Slade sighed. “I know you are, too. It’s not how I usually handle things, this… idleness.”

Dick looked back at him. “I know. Me neither.”

“You haven’t gotten any updates yet.”

Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t seem to matter how often I check. Nothing ever appears to say we’re free men.”

Slade chuckled, but it was somehow less condescending than Dick expected. “Sounds like you’re the expert then on keeping us in the loop.” He gestured to the coffee table. “My tablet’s there, if you wanna keep on eye on channels there, too.”

Although he was surprised by the somewhat intimate offer, Dick picked the tablet up from the table and entered the passwords that Slade rattled off from his place in the kitchen. Predictably, there was no news.

“How’re your cooking skills, boy?” Slade called, then.

Rather than get bent out of shape at the term of address, Dick grimaced. It was a tad bit embarrassing at his age, but the extent of his kitchen talents didn’t go much past cereal and the ability to order a pizza. Before he could even voice that, Slade was laughing again at his facial expression.

“All right, all right, you’re off the hook this time,” Slade said. He chose a few items from the cupboard and carried them to the small counter by the sink. “I’m no great chef like you may be used to in your fancy Manor, but I can throw something together for us.”

Thus far they’d mostly fended for themselves independently; a protein bar here, a can of peaches there… With how Dick had been keeping to himself, they hadn’t shared any meals. They hadn’t even eaten anything Dick could, in good conscience, _call_ a “meal.”

“Well,” Dick said. “Thanks.” Picking himself up from the couch, he added, “Did you, um, want any help with anything?”

“I got it covered,” Slade said. “You go ahead and save your energy for something else. I’ll expect you to do dishes afterwards.”

Dick smiled. “Seems fair.”

“Just let me know if we get any updates, won’t you?” Slade said, and turned his full attention to the stove.

No new information arrived before dinner was ready, and they ate, keeping discussion of the case to a minimum. Instead they talked about the food, how Slade had repurposed some instant noodles and canned vegetables into something halfway decent. More than halfway, if Dick was being honest.

“I mean, not to smack-talk instant noodles,” Dick said, “but this seems more like, you know, real food.”

“It’s hard working with such a lack of fresh ingredients,” Slade said. “But I’ve had time to learn a few tricks, get the most out of my resources.”

Dick nodded. “You might have to teach me some of those.”

“Gladly.”

By the time he was clearing the table, Dick felt more content and clear-headed than he had in a while, just from some company and a good meal. It was a wonder what a difference such things could make.

Slade shuffled off to his room, leaving Dick with clean-up duty, and he didn’t mind since it gave him something to do other than stare at his empty inbox, even if it wasn’t a complex task.

He still didn’t _trust_ Slade—how could he, after all the times he’d come up against him?—but he tried to remind himself that this situation was probably undesirable to Slade as well. There was only so much they could do to make this brief time the least painful possible, and Dick determined that he would offer to cook dinner for them the following night.

When the dishes were finished, Dick checked both his and Slade’s devices, more perfunctory than anything, and carried them both with him out of the kitchen. 

The rest of the shabby apartment was dark, Slade having presumably gone off to bed already, and Dick rubbed tiredly at his eye as he opened the bathroom door, intent on brushing his teeth and following suit—

Only Slade was _not_ in bed, because he was actually there in the bathroom, standing at the toilet with his dick out, and it took Dick an embarrassing number of startled seconds to stammer out an apology and back out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

He leaned against the hall wall, mortified. Slade himself hadn’t seemed all that perturbed—hadn’t even stopped pissing, just given Dick a bemused look and shifted his stance—but Dick didn’t know how he was going to get that mental image out of his head, now that he’d seen it. Why the hell hadn’t Slade locked the door? Did he just look for chances to humiliate Dick?

There was the sound of the sink running, and then the bathroom door opened and Slade practically leered at Dick as he grunted out a, “’s’all yours.”

Dick didn’t manage to thank him before Slade was gone into his room, the door closed after him. It took him another minute to even peel himself off the wall and go into the bathroom.

He tried not to think about it as he went though the motions of his nightly routine, using the bathroom, washing and moisturizing his face, brushing and flossing his teeth.

It didn’t work. Obviously. It had been a natural accident, but Dick had gotten a considerable eyeful, and try as he might to forget it, that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.

When he got back into his own room and settled into his bed, his and Slade’s devices both within easy reach should a message come in, he was still at least 98% thinking about what he’d walked in on.

So it just made sense that Slade was on his mind when he began touching himself.

Dick was sort of a tactile person. He enjoyed touching and feeling; it comforted him to hug someone or to hold their hand, and he found immense relaxation in his own physical pleasure.

Since being stuck in the safehouse with Slade, he’d taken great pains to restrain himself. He didn’t have reliable privacy and he was reluctant to let down his walls enough to go to such a vulnerable place. It had been getting more and more difficult though, with the stress they’d been under and how stir-crazy Dick was going, unable to set foot outside. He’d known sooner or later he’d have to do something to take off the edge, but he was still embarrassed that the last straw had apparently been Slade himself.

It couldn’t be that great a surprise. Part of what made the history between them so uncomfortable was that Dick had always been _drawn_ to Slade. Even when Dick had been younger and less aware of his own fluid sexuality, there had been something about Slade that intrigued him, and after all these years to reflect on it, it wasn’t difficult to recognize that he found Slade attractive. 

The time in close quarters alone might have been enough for Slade to find his way into Dick’s fantasies, but seeing him like that…

The softest of moans escaped Dick as he palmed himself through his sweatpants. He’d never seen Slade’s cock before tonight, never had that particular piece of data for what his mind conjured up. He’d known he’d be big, could always just _tell_, but the actual _memory_ of it was something else.

He wanted to touch it. Just like he wanted to touch everything, Dick wanted to run his fingertips up and down the shaft, along the foreskin, over the tip. He wanted to memorize every vein by touch, to feel the warmth of Slade heavy against his palm.

One hand slid into his sweats and Dick put his index and middle fingers on either side of his penis, dragging them up and down, teasing himself. He was already so hard, having done nothing but just lie there thinking about Slade’s cock.

God, but it was too easy. It wasn’t _just_ his cock, it was his whole insanely muscular body, the way he carried himself, that condescending smugness that made Dick feel _helpless_ and aroused, and like Slade could so easily put him _in his place_.

Dick liked the idea of that more than he cared to admit, and suddenly the room was too hot, _suffocating_. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, pushed his sweats down and kicked them off, too, leaving him naked and far more comfortable. He sat up on his knees as he started jerking off in earnest, imagining, maybe just a little, Slade, standing over him, telling him exactly how he ought to touch himself.

As if that wasn’t an area in which Dick had more than enough expertise. His grip was tight as his hand flew over his cock, hardly interested in teasing himself anymore. He was still hot all over and his muscles felt tight like a coil that was about to snap back and unwind. It wasn’t going to be enough.

Dick let two fingers slip past his lips into his mouth, as his other hand moved to cup his balls. He moaned around his fingers, his tongue sliding between them, thoroughly wetting them with his saliva.

It wasn’t much, and Dick had the passing thought that he might have some medical-grade lubricant in his med kit, but at this point he couldn’t be bothered to stop what he was doing and go look for it.

Instead he spread his legs a little wider and positioned a pillow in front of himself, giving him something to rub against when he had to take his hand off his cock for the sake of balance.

Leaning forward on one hand, he angled the other back behind himself, let his spit-slicked fingers play around his rim and press into his hole.

“Oh, god,” Dick breathed out, his eyes closing as his fingers started pumping in and out of his asshole. It had been ages since he’d had anything inside him, and he’d hardly even realized how much he’d missed it until his own fingers were doing such a meager and inadequate job stretching him open. He wanted to be full, wanted to be _fucked_, and there was just no way to make that happen right now.

Pre-cum was leaking steadily from his prick, dribbling onto the pillow he’d put in front of himself, and Dick dragged his cock through the wet spot, whimpering at the sensation before he began to outright hump the pillow, heedless of how the bead creaked under his enthusiasm. Every thrust against the pillow and back onto his fingers brought him higher and he could think of nothing but his mounting pleasure.

He still should have heard the bedroom door open—maybe he even _did_ hear it, on some level of consciousness—but it wasn’t enough to make him stop what he was doing, or even slow down.

And when he finally opened his eyes, Slade was there in the doorway, staring at him with lips barely parted, and Dick arched and came all over himself and the pillow he was misusing.

The brief seconds of the aftermath felt impossibly long as Dick struggled to catch his breath, and wondered if he should even bother trying to cover up when Slade had already seen it all.

“Sweet Jesus, kid,” was all Slade said, gaze caught on the spurts of cum dripping down Dick’s abdomen. Then he was gone, back out of the room, with a door closed tight between them.

It didn’t take long for Dick to decide against chasing after him. Even if he had some idea what he’d say, he was too much of a mess to try and have that conversation at present, and things would probably make more sense in the light of day.

Except the next morning, Slade stayed in his own room. Dick waited for him out in the common areas of the apartment, intent on having a totally awkward chat, but Slade never appeared, even as lunchtime came and went. If it weren’t for a few vague footsteps and rustling that could be heard from time to time, Dick would have thought he’d snuck out.

Then again, the fact that Slade was _there_, and just flat-out refusing to leave his room was almost _more _worrying. Was he doing it only to avoid having to see Dick? Was he that disturbed by what he’d interrupted the night before?

Dick walked up to Slade’s bedroom door, hand raised to knock, and then stopped. What could he say? “_Sorry you had to see me shoot all over myself last night_”? Why should he apologize, exactly? Slade was the one who had interrupted. If he’d knocked like Dick had just been going to, then maybe he wouldn’t be so uncomfortable now.

Why was he the one who got to be uncomfortable anyway? Dick was the one who had been completely exposed and humiliated. If anything, _he_ should have been the guy hiding out in his room, too shamefaced to share a meal with Slade.

That wasn’t how Dick was feeling though. With how he’d opened the door on Slade pissing, he kind of viewed them as even. And if he was even more honest, he wasn’t even really sorry that it had happened. Maybe that revealed too much about his own interests, but obviously Slade’s interruption hadn’t put Dick off at all. He’d _liked_ the way Slade looked at him.

Dick didn’t want to make any of it into a bigger deal than was necessary. He decided he would give Slade some space, and they’d talk it out when it was less awkward.

Having not seen him all day, Dick fell asleep with Slade still on his mind, and had dreams of him standing over him, that big cock right in Dick’s face, as he jerked off, arm muscles bulging with every movement. He woke up hard and this time opted to jump in a cold shower rather than take care of it.

That bothered him. While it was true that the quarters were lacking in privacy and habits had to be adjusted based on such a reality, Dick was against fighting his body’s natural needs, for what he couldn’t see as any good reason. Why had Slade been so immature about a simple mishap?

The whole day passed without Slade making an appearance, yet again, but Dick wasn’t one to sit idly by and wait for things to happen. He scrounged together a dinner of highly questionable quality and rapped sharply on Slade’s door.

“Dinner is ready, come out and eat,” he announced, trying to keep his temper, despite how he’d been fuming for the past hour as he’d cooked.

Slade’s voice came through the door, “Not hungry. Leave the leftovers in the fridge for me.”

“Are you serious?” Dick glowered at the door. “I _cooked_. You’re being—what is your problem anyway? I understand if you’re uncomfortable, but then we should talk about what happened. _You’re_ the one who _barged_ in! What did you think was going to happen, coming into someone’s room like that?”

There was a pause, then the door opened a crack, and Slade stood in the space. “I wanted my tablet.”

“What?” Dick was taken aback, both by Slade’s sudden appearance and by his answer.

“You had _my device_,” Slade said. “I wanted to be sure I got it back before we all headed off to sleep, and I didn’t realize you—” He broke off, set his jaw as he looked away. “Guess I should’ve knocked.”

“That would’ve been the courteous thing to do,” Dick agreed hypocritically.

Slade looked back at him. “Sure. Courteous.”

Dick got the feeling that Slade was holding himself back from saying a few ugly things to him, and he didn’t dare show weakness by breaking eye contact. “So then are you going to come have dinner?”

“You’re sure it’s edible?”

“We can find out together,” Dick said with a shrug, and hoped that the awkwardness between them had passed.

It was too much to hope for. Their dinner conversation was basically nonexistent, Slade only grunting in response to any attempt Dick made to get him talking. It was almost funny, after how Dick had been so reluctant to spend time with him at the beginning, that now he was working overtime just to sit and eat in uncomfortable silence with Slade.

Dinner was not great. Slade surely could have given Dick some feedback, cruel or constructive, but he made no comment on the food at all. He just gathered up the dishes and set to washing them, and Dick could do little other than thank him, and leave his tablet for him on the counter, well within his reach, before going back to his room.

It was late the next morning when the coded message finally came.

Dick leapt up from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen table, nearly tripping over a chair leg in his excitement. It would take him a bit to decode it, but he still ran to pound on Slade’s door and make sure he’d received the news as well.

Slade only growled that he was already working on it, and that Dick would be better off “sitting around looking pretty” and staying out of the way.

Dick was too outraged to come up with an appropriate retort, and charged back to his room to make sure what little he had with him was ready for him to leave at a moment’s notice. That message would have the time and meeting place for the final part of the case they’d spent so long putting together, and then Dick would be out of this hellhole and away from Slade and his judgmental mood swings.

Something stuck on the back of Dick’s brain and he frowned as he was restocking his emergency medical supplies. Was Slade going to keep acting like this when they went back into the field? If he was avoiding Dick, giving him the brushoff, failing to cooperate and communicate, he could not only endanger them both, but jeopardize the mission. What guarantee did Dick have that Slade’s behavior wouldn’t carry over and hurt them when it counted?

The rest of the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon was spent mulling over possible solutions to this problem, with Dick working out, thinking, and waiting impatiently for Slade to remember that they were supposed to be working _together_.

There was no chance of them doing what they needed to do if Slade went on acting like this, and Dick had accepted that they were going to have to have another awkward conversation, when at last Slade came to knock (rather pointedly) on his door.

“Yeah, come in,” Dick called, since Slade was obviously waiting.

The door opened somewhat cautiously. “Eleven o’clock tonight,” Slade said. “The package should be arriving at the docks. We beat that crew to the pick-up, incapacitate their leader, and we can put this whole business behind us.”

“Who’s meeting us for backup?”

“Robin and some little friend of his,” Slade said, his mouth slanting sideways. “Can't say I'm pleased about a couple of teenagers watching my back, but at least it’s not someone who’ll take much issue with my methods.”

Dick sighed at the unfortunate thought that these days most of the family would probably look the other way when it came to Deathstroke’s violent handling of situations. They’d all had their own darker moments, after all.

“Anyway,” Slade said. “Be sure you’re prepared for anything.” He turned to go, and Dick stood up from the bed to stop him.

“Wait,” he said. “We need to talk before we go out there.”

Slade hesitated to meet his eyes. “Strategy?”

Dick shook his head. “About the other night. It’s obviously still bothering you.”

Slade grunted. “That’s not how I would put it.”

“Then how _would_ you put it?” Dick said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You stay in your room, you’ll barely look at me… If you want me to _apologize_—”

“That’s not—What I want. From you.”

There was something in the rough of his voice that Dick wasn’t really familiar with, and it gave him pause. He waited for Slade to go on.

Slade scoffed, tried to shrug it off. “You can’t convince me you don’t know what you’re like. Seeing you like that, ass up and stuffed full, lost in your own… I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about it.”

And there it was: Slade had liked what he’d seen.

“Just makes it hard to focus on the task at hand,” Slade said. “It’s not that you didn’t make… a damn pretty picture.”

“So then,” Dick said, relaxing his posture and cocking his hip. “Would you like to see more?”

The look on Slade’s face was priceless; a war of desire and caution, excitement and distrust. “What are you asking me, kid?”

“Last time you walked in right at the end,” Dick said. “We have a little while before we need to get going… I thought you might enjoy watching the whole show this time.” Dick was holding his breath, even as he tried to look nonchalant. He had to have lost his mind, making _Slade Wilson_ an offer like this, but he couldn’t deny what he hoped Slade’s answer would be. 

Slade exhaled sharply and took a few steps into the room, his gazed locked hungrily on Dick. “You wanna perform for me?”

Dick flashed him a grin. “I always love working for an audience.” He gestured for Slade to take a seat on the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Slade sat, stiff, but that smug look was on his face and it made Dick burn hotter. An expectant eyebrow arched in Dick’s direction.

It hadn’t been a lie when Dick said he loved an audience, even in this context. He’d liked having Slade see him before, was almost too eager to have that attention on him again.

He started by getting out of his clothes. That part was easy. Dick had never minded people seeing and admiring his body; he took pride in working on it, and his confidence in his body gave him the momentum to take the next step, letting his hands move freely over his bared skin, pausing here and there to tease a more sensitive area.

Already he could feel how wholly Slade was focused on him, and that mere knowledge meant he was hard. Dick’s eyes closed, unwilling to let himself look, to see if Slade was staring at his erection. He flexed, heard a responding hitch in Slade’s breath, and that was all the evidence he needed.

Dick looked at Slade through his lashes and made his way to the bed, kneeling on the foot of it and finally taking his cock in his hand. He sighed with relief at his own touch, rocked his hips towards his fist.

“This a show that you put on often?” Slade rumbled.

Dick licked his lips slowly. “Only when the right people are watching.”

Slade huffed out a laugh. “And I’ve found a place on that list?”

“You’ve always watched me,” Dick said. His free hand came down to lightly squeeze his sac. “I like it. How you look at me, hungry, like you wanna teach me something.” Pre-cum leaked over his fingers and he shivered before settling on his next confession. “Had you on my mind when you walked in on me last time, too.”

Slade groaned and shifted on the bed so he was facing Dick properly. “Did you? You were thinking of me, with those fingers shoved up your tight little ass?”

“Wanted to be fucked,” Dick admitted breathlessly. “My fingers—aren’t really thick enough to fill me the way I want.”

There was a pause and Dick swore he could hear Slade’s throat click as he swallowed.

“I could help you with that,” Slade offered.

Dick barely caught the whine that threatened to come out of him. He nodded emphatically. “Help me, Slade.”

“Get over here,” Slade growled, shifting on the bed again. “Over my lap like the bad little boy you are.”

_Fuck_. Dick moved into position like it was completely out of his control, settled himself on his hands and knees, bent over Slade’s lap with his ass in the air. He heard the rustling of Slade fidgeting around, and with very little warning, a slicked-up finger was pressing insistently at his asshole.

“Goddamn,” Slade said as he plunged his finger deeper inside him, “You are tight, aren’t you, Pretty Bird? So needy for something big and thick filling you up…”

“_Yes_,” Dick said. His head tipped forward as he relaxed into the pace Slade was setting, the steady thrust of one, then two, of his fingers opening Dick up. His penis was heavy between his legs, no doubt dripping down onto Slade’s lap below him, and there was something shamefully exciting about that. He wanted to reach down and rub it into Slade’s clothing, spread his pre-cum around as he explored Slade with his hands.

That was really the only complaint Dick currently had; that with how Slade had arranged them, Dick couldn’t have his hands on Slade at all. He longed to touch and feel, to drag his hands over Slade’s broad chest, twist his fingers in the thick white hair he knew grew there, but he was oddly aware that he hadn’t been granted _permission_ to do that, even if he tried to compensate for his lack of balance with one hand.

All in all, it was a small complaint, and one easily forgotten as the two thick fingers thrusting into him became three. Dick was moaning, probably too loudly, rocking back, fucking himself on Slade’s fingers and trying to console himself with the thought that at least at this angle, Slade couldn’t see his face, how flushed and vulnerable he was.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about getting you like this,” Salde said sort of absently. “Bent over and panting. Never quite expected you to open up this easy for me, though.” His fingers curled, expertly rubbing over Dick’s prostate, making him cry out. “Is this even enough for you, or will you not be happy till you get my cock?”

Dick whined. He was sure Slade didn’t miss how his whole body shuddered and tensed.

“Yeah, that what you want? My cock filling up your needy hole, fucking you right?”

Dick nodded helplessly. “Keep thinkin’ about it. Ever since I saw you—”

Slade’s filthy chuckle cut him off. “Liked what you saw? Well, you’re welcome to watch anytime, if that’s what gets your rocks off.”

Dick had to be blushing clear down his chest. He wanted Slade to stop fucking talking and just _fuck_ him already, but he couldn’t deny that every dark rumble of his voice seemed to get Dick harder.

“But no, I don’t think I’ll fuck you this time,” Slade said, as if he could read Dick’s thoughts and was determined to disappoint him. “After all, we have somewhere to be, and it wouldn’t do to have you out in the line of fire if you couldn’t even walk.”

There was so much promise in his words, promise of _next time_, promise to utterly _ruin_ Dick when they did finally fuck.

It still seemed like a challenge that Dick couldn’t let pass unacknowledged. He pushed back hard, getting Slade’s fingers deeper inside him. “Maybe I can take more than you give me credit for.”

Slade breathed in through his nose. “I’m sure you can take it, Pretty Bird. And I’ll give it to you. Just not tonight.” His free hand came down hard on Dick’s ass, once, a warning. “Don’t talk back to me, boy.”

Dick considered himself to be a reasonably patient man, but there was only so much more of this he could take. “Then are—are you going to let me cum, or do I have to wait until you give me your cock for that?”

“Hmm…” Slade’s fingers slowed to a teasing pace, just shy of tolerable. “That’s not a bad idea. But you did promise me a full show this time.” All at once, he withdrew his fingers entirely, and Dick barely managed to keep his protest quiet. “Get up, on your knees, facing me,” Slade ordered.

Dick was breathing more heavily than he’d want to admit, and he knew he was oozing pre-cum at at truly humiliating rate, but he pushed himself up, and straddled Slade’s lap as he’d been directed. He reached for Slade’s shoulders but stopped short at Slade’s next gruff command.

“Hands behind your head. I never said you could touch.”

Dick bit his lip, and lifted his arms, interlocking his fingers behind his own head.

“This is supposed to be a performance,” Slade reminded him darkly. “That means _I _get to look. You can take your satisfaction from that.”

Dick nodded. He shivered at how exposed he felt like this, Slade’s gaze raking shamelessly over him at such a close distance.

Slade’s hand moved, and for a second, Dick thought he would receive mercy, that Slade was reaching for his neglected erection, but instead Slade took hold of his own belt, and Dick was frozen, unable to do anything but watch as he parted the material of his pants and pulled out his own heavy cock, foreskin drawn back from the ruddy tip where a solitary bead of pre-cum and formed, as if mocking Dick for his wanton lack of restraint.

“See what you do to me?” Slade said, his thumb playing over the head. “Wanted to make sure you know how much I’m enjoying the show.”

“Oh…” Dick’s hips jerked, trying to bring his own cock in contact with the mouth-watering piece Slade had just revealed.

“Don’t get greedy,” Slade admonished him. “I’ll take care of you, in a minute. Didn’t that father figure of yours teach you to be patient?”

“I’m patient,” Dick said. He hoped the desperation didn’t leak into his voice too obviously.

“I am, too, or this would have happened a lot sooner,” Slade said.

Dick held his breath as Slade took his hands off himself and ran them lightly up Dick’s sides, clear up to under his arms. Fingers moved ticklishly through the hair there before continuing up along Dick’s arms, tracing muscle and gliding over scars, clear out to his elbows. It was difficult for Dick to keep still, but he’d been trained for it, and he made sure to hold his pose as Slade explored and examined him. The same path was followed back down, and Slade’s hands finally came to rest where his thumbs could rub over Dick’s hipbones.

“Guess you were worth the wait,” Slade said. “I could probably get off just keeping you like this, looking at you… And I can’t even see that great ass of yours from this angle.”

Dick wasn’t sure if he was supposed to offer to move, to give Slade the best view possible, and before he could ask, Slade was trailing one finger slowly up the length of Dick’s straining cock.

“Such a pretty thing…” Slade smirked. “It won’t take much, will it? I could probably just _talk_ you off, get you to shoot right here on me without hardly touching you.”

Dick started to shake his head, but stopped, so as not to seem bratty or impatient. Honestly that sounded pretty damn hot, but everything in him protested a lack of _touch_. It was bad enough he was no longer stuffed full, now Slade wanted to take his hands off him altogether?

“Speak,” Slade demanded. “I’ve already decided I want your mess all over me, but I’ll let you have a say in _how_ you get off.”

A thousand images flooded Dick’s mind at once; of him recklessly humping against Slade’s sculpted abs; of Slade folding him in half and eating his ass; of him riding Slade’s thick fingers once more while he fisted his own cock… No actual words supplied themselves.

How had it come to this? He’d just meant for Slade to watch him masturbate, thought that would be enough to satisfy whatever this urge was—instead, he was trying to settle upon the best of a near-infinite list of possible ways that he could let Slade bring him off, was completely under his control and harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“Would you like me to pick for you?” Slade asked, his voice so rich and smooth that Dick could melt into it.

Feebly, Dick nodded.

“That’s good,” Slade said, his hand on Dick’s erection once again. “You know I'll give you what you want, whatever I choose to do, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Dick sighed, because he did know that, even if he wasn’t sure he should believe it. Just from some teasing and promising words, Dick felt like he was the split second after the match is struck but before the fire, right on the edge of something all-consuming.

“Then I don’t think you’ll complain if I keep it simple—this time.”

Dick wouldn’t have complained, no matter _what_ he was given, as long as it was _something_, and that it was Slade’s big, calloused hand taking a firm hold of his cock was a fact more worth celebrating.

“Go ahead and put your hands on me,” Slade said generously.

Dick didn’t bother to hold back his sounds of pleasure and gratitude as he fucked into the tight circle of Slade’s fist and ran his own hands over Slade’s broad, muscled chest. Luckily, Slade didn’t give him any grief for either his noises or his wandering hands, even when they peeled Slade’s shirt up and crept underneath, so Dick could drag his fingers through curling white chest hair.

If Dick had ever held any control over anything in the situation, it was slipping. His thighs were burning and his movements were jerky, and he was sure he was seconds away from losing it.

A glance down at Slade’s capable hand working his cock almost proved to be Dick’s undoing, and he closed his eyes tight. “_Fuck_, Slade—_please_.”

It came out small, a good deal quieter than anything else falling out of Dick’s mouth, but when he opened his eyes, he saw the corner of Slade’s lips twitching up triumphantly. 

“Looks like you’ve got some manners, after all. What do you need, kid?”

“Let me—Please, can I cum?” Dick begged. He didn’t really think Slade would deny him, but he couldn’t bear to wait any longer, and it felt oddly _necessary_ for Slade to offer his approval beforehand.

“You may,” Slade said shortly. And whatever he’d been holding back was let go of as he jerked Dick off that much faster, _sweeter_, and there was no stopping Dick’s orgasm as it crashed over him like an imploding building.

Dick’s hands were still on Slade’s chest, rucking up his shirt, as he cried out and came, ejaculating all over Slade’s abs, pearly drops running down his treasure trail and falling across his exposed cock. The sight made Dick whine desperately, his hips giving a few aborted thrusts even though he was milked dry.

“Christ, you are something,” Slade said, his voice low. He raised his cum-covered hand to Dick’s lips, let him lick at his fingers until he was sucking two into his mouth and moaning around them. “That enough to satisfy you, or would you like to suck on something bigger?”

Dick required no further invitation; he was bent down in an instant, Slade’s hand shoved aside in favor of getting his mouth on Slade’s dick. It was heavy against his tongue, and he could taste himself where his release had spattered over it, and for a moment, Dick thought he might suffocate, just because he was so overwhelmed by it all.

Then Slade’s hand was in his hair, grounding him and guiding him, helping him take just a _little_ more than was comfortable, and Dick’s eyes were watering, but he was absolutely okay with that.

When Slade came, it was with a soft grunt. He pulled Dick back so that his cum hit his lips, striped over his cheek, and there was honestly no point in getting indignant over it.

They were both still breathing heavy as Slade finally relinquished his grip on Dick’s hair and let him sit up. 

Unasked questions hung in the air, but Dick wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to any of them. His throat was dry, and he swallowed a couple times, wiped the back of his hand across his face, as he stood from the bed to get himself in order.

“That was quite a show,” Slade offered, at length.

Dick glanced warily up at him. He looked as smug as ever, even with jizz drying on his stomach. “More audience participation than I’d expected,” Dick said coolly.

Slade pursed his lips. “Is that a bad thing?”

Dick shook his head easily. “I love interactive performances.”

“I’d like to… see another show sometime,” Slade said, rising from the bed himself. “Perhaps it could be even more. Interactive.”

“After all the business is over?” Dick clarified.

Slade chuckled. “I do think we’d better save _some_ energy for our work tonight. But anytime after…”

“You know how to find me,” Dick said. He threw a final smile over his shoulder before leaving the room to head for the shower, feeling utterly unrepentant about leaving Slade to wait for his own chance to wash up. It was still a couple hours until they needed to leave; he could manage.

And hopefully Dick could manage, too, to wait until the next time he and Slade were able to fall into bed together. It wasn’t something he’d ever imagined himself seeking out, but having gotten a taste, he didn’t know why it had taken them so long, and he was looking forward to whatever happened next between them.

Maybe it was the start of a new chapter in their long history.


End file.
